Young and Aspiring
by SolitaryPoison
Summary: After a war that left him feared, revered, and alone, Harry is no longer the boy he was. He is sent to Konoha in the hopes he'll find peace. Instead, he finds two equally strange boys, a world that's built on warriors, and new enemies. SLASH
1. Teenage Angst

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Naruto. Or any random song lyrics that I sometimes change into sentences.

**Warnings:** hmm hmm Brace yourself…SLASH, Suicidal thoughts, Pretty Dark thoughts/actions/story Maybe graphic War/Death, at least in Harry's memories, Almost Insanity, Maybe Character death(definite past character death), Messed up Naruto timeline, swearing ummm…Probably some more later…

**Pairings:** Hmmm…Well, main pairing will be Slash, since I'm better at writing that. I think it will be Harry/Naruto AND Harry/Sasuke. Could be a bit of Naruto/Sasuke but not sure. Other pairings…I don't have any preference at the moment. Drop me a line if you have any ideas…

**IMPORTANT:** To make this fit, I've changed a large chunk of canon. Sasuke DIDN'T go with Snake man, though it was a near miss, and instead trained with…someone I haven't thought of yet. Naruto and Sakura still trained as they did in the manga, so team 7 was split for a long time. They're all back in Konoha now, but everything's not peachy. This means Sai hasn't appeared, and I'm not sure what to do about Akatsuki yet. Also, I haven't seen a lot of the anime or read a lot of the manga, and no, I haven't read much Naruto fanfiction either (except xovers). I've read/ seen enough of the early Naruto to know the basics; I've read all the character profiles/story arcs etc on Wikipedia and other websites. This means, I might need to ask you guys for help with some things, especially battle, and any pointers/ideas etc, will be welcomed and appreciated.

On the HP side of things, Half Blood Prince never happened, because I wouldn't be able to fit in the end of the war with the age I want him to be. However, Dumbledore is dead, along with quite a few other canon characters(please don't kill me…). Anyone who's read anything else I've written will know that I write better with angst. But as a general rule, I'm a sucker for a happy ending. In this however, there's no promises. It's looking pretty dark at the moment…

But since I'm probably boring you, if you've got the time tell me what you think/ if anything is seriously wrong/ if I have amazingly bad grammar/ if it's amazingly bad full stop. Or, you know, you could tell me what you like… : D

**The Astronomy Tower, Hogwarts, Scotland, June 12th, 1998, 12:45pm**

He watches. It is a favourite pastime of his these days, to just stare out of the window as children run and laugh and play. They look so happy, so carefree, as if the last couple of years haven't happened. Sometimes, Harry wishes he could join them, thinks that he'd give anything to be like that, to live one day in their shoes. Other days he hates them. Hates them for forgetting things that no one should ever have to see, hates them for moving on, when his every moment, waking or sleeping, is fixed firmly in the past. They are just children, he tells himself, when this resentment stirs within. Yet they are not much younger than he, and Harry himself is not yet considered an adult by law, though he is denied nothing and treated with a reverence and respect that borders on fear.

He watches, and it is no longer nameless, blurred faces he sees, but himself and Ron and Hermione, walking the path to Hagrids hut, throwing stones to the giant Squid, lazing in the brilliant sunlight. He sees a girl with warm brown eyes, and bushy hair, holding the hand of a tall, gangly red head. He sees them kiss and laugh and joke and bicker. And then all merges into red vision and screaming, and cool air against oh so pale skin. All is lost to this new sense of freedom, this brilliant exit, as the breath is stolen from his lungs and his eyes water.

And then he sees a boy.

He's small and delicate, with the barest hint of a tan. Ebony black hair, tinted red in the sunlight, curls against neck and ears, messy and wild. It matches the eyes, eyes of the deepest, feral green which flash brightly with mischief and the deep joy of someone who is happy to just be alive. Red lips are stretched wildly in a captivating smile, a sight which makes his stomach twist because it's so familiar and yet he just can't place it. But the beckoning hand is so inviting and he soars towards it, arms outstretched, ready to dive inside this beautiful boy, to melt into his skin and swim through his veins and merge with this being who is everything he can never be.

And as the first, true smile in months stretches across his face, a wild laugh trying to escape from his throat, his eyes open involuntarily. And as the ground rushes up to meet him, he doesn't even have time to scream.

**A Field, Devon, England, Same Day, 16:45pm**

Alastor Moody doesn't fit with his surroundings. He somehow seems to clash with the green of the fields, the features of the forest, and the glaringly hot sun. A weathered bowler hat rests beside him on the grass, leaving a rolling, electric eye exposed to any who could be watching. Yet Moody surrounds himself with a cage of wards, so he knows if so much as an ant comes close. Constant vigilance! It's kept him alive, even if it couldn't save his eye, or his leg, or that chunk out of his nose. Constant vigilance. He taught the boy that much, taught him everything he knew about war. It's only now that Mad Eye realises that no one thought to teach him about life.

It's been a long time since he's sat in this place, sat and thought over past decisions. He learnt early on in auror training that second guesses only lead to insecurity, which leads to mistakes, which eventually leads to death. He learnt to take his gut instinct, to trust that he knew how to take care of those he directed. Yet right now, he can't help but wonder if he's made the right decision, can't help but wonder whether it was his decision to make, for who is he to send the boy away? He's already failed the kid enough, helped make him into what he is. So what right does he have to send him away, to fob him off on friends on another continent? To throw him away like a failed experiment and do his best to forget? He owes Harry more than that, he knows, but he's finally accepted that he's done his best, that it is beyond his ability to fix the boy he helped to break.

And maybe this will solve nothing, but Harry is a soldier in a school of children, a warrior with more experience and more power than those who are trying, and failing, to teach him to integrate into a society that both loves and fears him. So where else can he be sent, but a place where children are brought up to be weapons, where life is based on fighting and power? There are no ghosts that reside there, no enemies strong enough to follow him across the water, and there is no name to live up to, and no past if he chooses to forget it. It will be Harry's new beginning, whether the boy likes it or not!

Moody knows this is the last choice he'll ever make for Harry, that this means he is relinquishing control of him to people who might not be trusted not to use him, who might not be able to handle a disillusioned , and apparently suicidal, saviour. But if sending Harry to Konohagakure makes the boy give a damn about something, then Moody will consider the idea a success. And maybe, he'll start to forgive himself.

**Konoha, Land of Fire, General vicinity of Japan,**

The Fifth Hokage eats a bowl of ramen, while trying to recall why exactly she agreed to Alastor's request. The man is an old friend, yet with Orochimaru up to no good there is no time to waste. It doesn't help that Naruto is no closer to being accepted by the village, and that Sasuke is growing ever further away from Team 7. They were lucky that they had managed to keep Sasuke in Konoha after the attack two and a half years ago, when he was so close to leaving. They had been lucky that something had held him back, but Tsunade gets the feeling that that luck is running out.

She doesn't know much about the kid. His name is Harry, sure, and he's almost 17. Grew up without a family or love, trained to be a weapon, lost all his friends to a war and not adjusting well to peace. She's not sure how she can help. But she owes Moody from way back, so if this is what he wants in repayment she'll gladly accept.

She wonders whether he'll be more like Sasuke or Naruto, though of course he might be nothing like either of them. All three are orphans with messed up childhoods, all three have expectations heaped upon them. None of them are ordinary. It will be best to ask Naruto to look out for him, she decides, since the kid (though he's 16 now) needs all the friends he can get, and can be trusted to look after a stranger. She hopes.

Well, he'll be coming in a day, so with a sigh she gets up and runs her speech through her head. Addressing the council is always tedious, especially with a bunch of morons like Danzo questioning every decision she makes. But this Harry Potter is powerful, Alastor had told her, and skilled, and if anything will persuade the council it is that.

At times like this, Konoha needs all the help it can get.

**Hospital Wing, Hogwarts, June 13th, 13:34pm**

He wakes up a day later, his muscles aching and his pulse like a drum beat in his head. He doesn't need to look around to know where he is, having spent so much time in the Hospital Wing that he recognises the sterile vibe immediately. He relaxes and sighs and wonders how he got there. He opens his eyes, squinting to adjust to the light, and once again thanks whatever deity exists for the production of the eye correcting potion. He reaches out and grabs the glass of water, pouring the cool, smooth liquid down his throat. Then he sits up suddenly, chocking and spluttering as the water goes down the wrong way. Quickly looking around the room to make sure no one witnessed his embarrassing lack of composure, Harry glares at the glass, as if it is the sole reason for all his problems.

Finally, he lies back down, and tries to remember why he hurts. He doesn't hear the door open as he searches his mind. And in his memories he finds nothing useful. He was sat on the astronomy tower, he knows, but past that he sees nothing but flashes of ground coming closer and ghosts from the past.

"Harry?"

He doesn't acknowledge the obvious concern in her voice, barely seems to notice her, as he dredges up memories of a freefall that has no beginning. He's falling, falling in this memory that is too vivid to be false, but he doesn't know why he's falling.

"Harry?!"

He doesn't remember being scared, until that last moment when his eyes opened. But he must have been, surely…

"Open your thrice damned eyes Potter and get your head out of your ass before I yank it out for you!!!"

He's rolling out of the bed before his brain fully processes the words, body crouched and hand grasping for a wand he's surprised to find isn't there. A brief flash of panic rushes through him, before his eyes go blank and his mind ventures to that cold place inside where morals don't exist and there is only kill or be killed.

"Harry stop that! Don't look at me like that! Calm down!"

He reaches deep inside for that reserve of magic that all wizards have but few know how to use. He does not stop to think that he is too weak, that this magic is what is holding him together; he only sees a threat before him. And All. Enemies. Must. DIE.

As the girl runs to the door it slams shut, and Harry rises from his position, advancing slowly, a predator secure in the knowledge that its prey is taking its final breaths. She is nothing more than his enemy, for in this mind state opponents have no names or faces, no families or futures (because it's so much easier to kill a bunch of cells than a pretty, screaming, crying girl who's getting married in a week and has just bought a new house and who constantly has a smile on her face because her future is bright and she knows it).

There's banging and shouting and the door knob rattles as people try to get in while the girl desperately tries to escape. Yet Harry's eyes are no longer fixed on the cowering nurse, though they still seem to stare blankly in her direction.

No, his eyes and mind are focused on horrors most cannot imagine, in a time that came and went so quickly, for all the lives that were lost within it. It is not the nurse he sees anymore, but an order member being tortured by the enemy, a death eater cowering before the anger of the Boy Who Lived, that tiny, precious little girl who was too young to have truly lived, and too young to die. The faces of the dead merge until there is no distinction between them, no features to the faces or ages to the voices, just pleading and screaming and accusing eyes.

And he grabs his head and yanks at his hair as he tries to shake free of the memories, tries to dislodge the little pixies of the past that cling to his brain and burrow into his eyeballs. He lets out a chocked sob, crumbles to his knees, not noticing as he they hit the stone or that the door has finally swung open. He leans forward so that his head is almost touching the ground, and lets out a long, keening wail. Nails dig into skin, and he either doesn't notice or just doesn't care.

He's not who he used to be, the spectators sigh to themselves. Yet they can't help but wonder if they ever truly knew him at all, if they ever knew the truth of this tragic hero, this living martyr. The dead eyes, and pale skin, the walk that tells of someone who has nowhere to go and nowhere to go back to, the hollow voice…all masterfully hide the youthful boy he once was. He's searched and searched for something to hold onto, and so has changed and morphed into whatever people asked of him, and now he lives inside someone he does not recognise, taking another look whenever he catches his reflection on accident.

No one steps forward to comfort him, as he breaks apart on cold stone flooring, tiny tendrils of sanity seeping from his pores and along the cracks in pretty red rivers. Maybe they don't know what to say (for who does at times like this?), maybe they don't care (because the war is over and Harry's no longer the happy little Gryffindor who would die for a stranger), and maybe, maybe they're just frozen (You know the feeling? You watch the car crash and hear the screaming, yet you. Just. Can't. Move.). The Professors shift nervously, thinking up excuses to be anywhere but there. And maybe you can't blame them, for they are trained to comfort home sick 11 year olds, and teenage girls crying over their boyfriends, not weapons who grew old before their time.

And they all heave a sigh of relief as the headmistress enters and ushers them out with impatient movements and a shake of her head. She crouches down, ignoring the pain in her back, and half carries, half drags the far too thin boy back onto the hospital bed. He doesn't move or make a sound, looking for all the world as if he had just died there on pristine white sheets, green eyes visible through slits. But he isn't dead, Minerva reminds herself with a harsh reprimand. She'd promised Albus she'd keep him alive, and so she will, whether that plan meets with Harry's approval or not!

She sinks wearily into a chair beside the bed, and carefully brushes a length of hair out of Harry's face, who doesn't acknowledge the cautious touch. She sighs, and resists the urge to draw him to her chest and hug him as if he is her own child. He is the closest to a son she has ever had, and she cannot bear to see him so.

"Oh Harry…How did we go so wrong?"


	2. Saying Goodbye

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Naruto. Or any random song lyrics that I sometimes change into sentences.

**Warnings:** hmm hmm Brace yourself…SLASH, Suicidal thoughts, Pretty Dark thoughts/actions/story Maybe graphic War/Death, at least in Harry's memories, Almost Insanity, Maybe Character death(definite past character death), Messed up Naruto timeline, swearing ummm…Probably some more later…

**Pairings:** Hmmm…Well, main pairing will be Slash, since I'm better at writing that. I think it will be Harry/Naruto AND Harry/Sasuke. Naruto/Sasuke .Other pairings…I don't have any preference at the moment. Drop me a line if you have any ideas…

I'm very happy about the response to the last chapter, especially since I got some constructive criticism, which was useful since last chapter was an experimentation with empathise. Since the majority didn't like it, I've removed the bold, and also fixed some typos. On a quick note, I would prefer criticism to be kept constructive and polite. And if you're going to call me juvenile with no appropriate reasons (you know how you are), at least learn how to spell the word.

Now smiles happily Onto the chapter…

**Cemetery (Wizard Village), Lands End, Cornwall, June 14th, 12:01pm**

He traces the gold letters with a shaky hand, a lone tear slipping down his cheek. He doesn't need to see them to know they're watching him, though why they feel the need to chronicle his every movement he doesn't know. Surely there are more important things to write about? But who knows, maybe there isn't. If nothing else, war sells papers. An article about how well the community is doing and how wonderful life is doesn't sell nearly as well as the news that 30 muggles were murdered in Aberdeen. But there has been a distinct lack of murders the past month, the last remaining Death Eaters either rotting away in Azkaban or hiding in some remote manor deep in the countryside. Harry doesn't really care where they are, and he can't be bothered to chase after them any more. What would be the point? They can't hurt him. They've already taken everything he has.

But while the reporters are hiding behind stone angels and weathered willow trees, trying and failing to be inconspicuous, only a meter or so behind Harry are Moody and McGonagall. They said they were there for moral support, but Harry thinks it's more likely they're making sure he doesn't run off. Not that he really has anywhere to run to…true, he owns a few dozen houses and mansions (courtesy of the Potter and Black inheritance, as well as the fortunes and properties left to him by random people he has never met who were far too enamoured with the boy who lived) but he can be traced to a lot of those. He would have to have to move to some foreign country if he truly wanted to never be found, but he wouldn't speak the language. After long thought, he had decided that complete solitude was not acceptable. Considering his self isolation, this could be taken as a minor breakthrough. Or self punishment. It really depends on which way you look at it…

He stands, and looks down at the white marble slab.

_Hermione Granger and Ronald Weasley,_

_Devoted Lovers, Beloved Friends,_

_May the light of their souls guide them through the darkness_

In the bottom right corner is a golden phoenix taking flight, the symbol of the order they all joined far too young. In the top left corner is the blazon of Gryffindor, the golden lion proudly rearing. It is a symbol of how bravely they lived and died, Dumbledore had said. Yet Harry isn't sure if any of them lived bravely. They fought, and while it may have seemed brave, Harry thinks it was more a lack of options. It was what was expected of them; they had never really been given the chance to contemplate running, or watch from the side lines. And it was more surviving then living, Harry has to believe that. Because if that was living, than there is nothing to hope for.

He lays one of two bouquets of flowers on the plaque, covering most of the words from view. He presses two fingers to his lips, and then crouches down, pressing them gently onto both of the names.

"I'll miss you…"

There is no reply, though he seems to wait for one, only the chattering of birds who are far too happy for a graveyard.

"You always said that you'd follow me into the dark, that there was no place I could go that you wouldn't follow me. You never listened when I told you stay to home… I always knew you wouldn't…But…I wish you were here with me. I'm not me anymore, without you. And there's nothing left of me these days…They're sending me away you know? They think I'm going crazy…I can see it in their eyes. I'm not, I know I'm not, I can't be, I'm just…I'm just…empty. There's this big, gaping hole in my chest and it's growing and growing and swallowing me whole. and oh gods, why did you leave me? You know I don't do too well on my own. I always thought that if you died, I would as well, that if the silence took you, it would take me too. I didn't think they would be so cruel…I wish I could take you with me, to wherever it is I'm going. I've got nothing left to remember you by…I just…I…I wish…"

He stands up suddenly, his expression contorted into a mask, of anguish and hatred, and anger (at himself? At them? At everyone?). He takes one, hard look at the plaque and stares down at the other bouquet of flowers in his hand. He opens his mouth to say something, and then closes it again. He shakes his head, then suddenly turns and walks away, stuffing the flowers meant for his parents in a nearby bin.

"Fuck it."

Let the reporters have their story, the pathetic sob story of a saviour who the world thinks has everything, and couldn't be more wrong. Harry doesn't care. What does it matter? He won't be around to see the result.

**Headmistress's Office, Hogwarts, June 14th, 17:57**

"How are we going to get to…wherever it is we're going?"

He sits on the sofa, knees held tightly to his chest. His eyes flitter, taking in every slight movement, looking at all possible exits every few minutes. Habits die hard. His trunk is on the floor in front of him, packed and locked. It contains the essentials, clothes and toiletries, weapons and potions and books. But it also contains the few personal effects he owns: a photo album, his invisibility cloak, letters, a locket…They are the only things he has left to remember his friends and family by, to remember himself by. And no matter how many times he's wanted to throw them away and just forget everything these people meant to him, he can't. He's not that strong.

Harry is pinned suddenly by Moody's eye, though the mans natural eye is looking in a completely opposite direction.

"Floo." Is the short answer Harry is given, and he wrinkles his nose a little, not sure whether it's possible to floo straight to a far away country like that. He'd expected a portkey, though he is glad it isn't one, but still…He's not a big fan of floo travel either. Harry doesn't do well in enclosed spaces.

"We'll floo from the Ministry of magic," The ex auror tells him.

"Great," Harry sneers, "So the whole country will know where I'm going. Saying that, I'm surprised the Ministry is letting me going. Doesn't that screw up their plans of using me for propaganda and scapegoat purposes? They'll actually have to rely on themselves, and we can't have that can we?"

His voice is sarcastic and cynical, any lingering respect for the Ministry destroyed when it refused to send aurors to rescue six children from death Eaters. _"Too risky my dear man, far too risky. Anyway, we don't have contingents of aurors to just throw away willy nilly. They have jobs to do you know? It's a terrible sacrifice, young lives, but it's for the good of the people..." _

"They didn't have much choice in the matter." The headmistress says, entering the room. "The Ministry's bad conduct during the war is still mostly hidden from the general populace. The Minister would like to keep it that way."

She frowns, and Harry can't help but notice the deeper wrinkle lines on her face, the multitude of grey in her hair, still tightly held in a bun. She was old before the war, Harry knows, but then she had seemed to him an immortal, constant presence. But Dumbledore's death had forced him to acknowledge the mortality of those he had loved, and now he sees death in all that he looks at. Unconsciously calculating age and strength and illness to find that the few he trusts that are alive are old and dieing, withering away like plants without sunlight. Not even Harry has a way to delay death.

"And I'm not stupid enough to let the whole country know your whereabouts!" Moody snarled, both eyes glaring at him. "We will not be flooing straight to our destination, we couldn't even if we wanted to, but will floo across countries using old Order safe houses. That way we can shake any followers off our tail."

He leans forward, taps the hole in his nose where a chunk is missing and yells, "CONSTANT VIGILANCE!!!"

Recognising the look in Moody's eyes from their training sessions, Harry doesn't even jump, though he frowns in annoyance as his eardrums ring. McGonagall, however, isn't so fortunate and she jumps, a hand pressing against her chest as she calms her breathing. She glares at Moody as she would a first year, her expression the epitome of stern disapproval. A smallest hint of a smile threatens Harry's face, though Harry makes it a point not to acquiesce to threateners and crushes it instinctively. But it is the closest he has come to a smile in a month (or two or three, and maybe he can't even remember the last time he smiled, and maybe he's forgotten how), a smile as actual amusement flitters through his brain, a true smile, (not feral and wild as blood stains porcelain cheeks and bone is cleaved from body, nor sarcastic and self-deprecating as he once again thinks that the world is playing one big, cosmic joke, and it's all on him).

"Don't glare at me woman! I'm not a child!" Moody huffs, and the headmistress just hurrumphs, turning her back on him primly.

"Have you packed Harry?" She asks, her tone quiet and soft, the way people talk to animals when they think any sound louder than a whisper will make them attack (or flee, since these days either is possible in Harry's case). Harry nods reluctantly, watching her with resentful emerald eyes. He doesn't take well to people making decisions about him, and it almost makes him laugh, that he is old enough to fight for his country, to fight and kill and die for a cause – yet he's still not allowed to decide his own future. They all say it's for the best. Harry snorts softly. _What the fuck do they know…_

**Hokage's Office, Hokage Tower, Konoha, June 14th, 17:57pm**

Naruto fidgets as he waits outside the Hokage's office with his team mates and sensei. Sasuke's usually stoic face shows the tiniest bit of interest, while Sakura's is thoughtful. Unsurprisingly, Kakashi has his head stuck in a book, the latest in the Icha Icha series. All had been called from a training session ten minutes ago to attend a special meeting with the Hokage. They all hope it is to be given a mission, something exciting and a little dangerous, bored with countless training. And besides, it had been ages since they had all had a mission together. With all of the Rookie 9 now Chunnins, and Konaha seriously lacking in Shinobi, most missions under A class were done alone.

Naruto prefers the team missions. He gets kinda lonely otherwise…

An ANBU gestures for them to enter, and they are unsurprised to find Tsunade glaring at a desk covered in seemingly endless paperwork. She looks up as they stand before her, all except Naruto bowing, her expression tired. But she cannot help but smile as Naruto bounces excitedly on the spot.

"Kakashi, Sakura, Sasuke," She nods in greeting to each of them. She smirks at Naruto. "Brat."

Naruto mock glares. "Don't call me a brat Tsunade baa-chan!"

"HAVE SOME RESPECT FOR YOUR HOKAGE NARUTO!" Sakura yells, throwing a punch. Naruto dodges with a laugh , and everyone relaxes as the familiar scene plays out.

"I don't suppose you could tell us why we've been called here?" Sasuke asks, internally glaring at his team mates' childish behaviour. Perhaps feeling the Uchiha heirs annoyance, Kakashi momentarily looks up from his book.

"Come on kiddies, let's all get along and listen to the Hokage." The Copy-nin sounds entirely disinterested in both their antics and what Tsunade has to say. The Hokage resists the urge to throw them all out of her office.

"Kami-sama, I need a drink." She mumbles to herself, banging her head on the desk.

"You know what?" She says to them, "You can go. I'll just give this important mission to someone else!"

"Mission?! What mission? Tell us, please?!" Naruto whines, pouting at her with cerulean puppy dog eyes. The sentence has done its job though; the words 'important' and 'mission' meant the former team 7 are all watching attentively.

"Finally!" Tsunade sighs. "Right, let's get down to business. I have a very important mission that I'd like you to take care of for me. It's not particularly dangerous, but could be time consuming. I'm not entirely sure what it will entail, or how long it will take, but I think you four are the best shinobis for the job."

"Why?" Kakashi asks, not tearing his eyes from that thrice damned orange book.

"Because we're the strongest!" Naruto yells, grinning wildly. It's truth, after all.

"That's not the main reason," The Godaime says, watching them intently. The seriousness in her eyes calms Naruto, who is far more perceptive than people believe.

"In this mission, strength and skill are not so important. However, one of the reasons I chose you is because of your capacity for seamless teamwork, and the success rate of your missions. Team 7 was always the most effective, and whilst the Rookie nine teams no longer exist as such, the team dynamics have stayed with you. And for this mission, I need you to be Team 7.

More importantly however, are your experiences. All of you have known sadness and hardship, and hopefully this will give you the ability to empathise with the boy."

"What boy?" Naruto asks, intrigued.

"A friend of mine has asked me to watch over a boy under his guardianship. He has…had a very traumatic life, and, as is to be expected, it has severely impacted on his mental stability. We agreed that a new start may do the kid good, and as such the boy is coming to live in Konoha.

I would like you four to look after him."

"Which would entail…?" Kakashi asks, book gone to wherever it is the man hides it.

"Showing him around, helping him settle in, being nice," A glare was directed as Sasuke, "But not over the top," A glare at Naruto, "Or obsessive." A pointed look at Sakura.

"And no perverted behaviour!"

Kakashi smirks behind his mask.

"When's he coming?" Sakura asks.

"Tomorrow."

It seems a bit sudden to the sort of renewed Team 7. All of them are sure that there is more to this boy than they are being told. There's just something in the way the Godaime speaks, the strange look in her eye.

"What's his name?"

"Potter. Potter, Harry. Or in Western terms, Harry Potter."


	3. New Kid

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Harry Potter or Naruto. Or any random song lyrics that I sometimes change into sentences.

**Warnings:** hmm hmm Brace yourself…SLASH, Suicidal thoughts, Pretty Dark thoughts/actions/story Maybe graphic War/Death, at least in Harry's memories, Almost Insanity, Maybe Character death(definite past character death), Messed up Naruto timeline, swearing ummm…Probably some more later…

**Pairings:** Hmmm…Well, main pairing will be Slash, since I'm better at writing that. I think it will be Harry/Naruto AND Harry/Sasuke. Naruto/Sasuke .Other pairings…I don't have any preference at the moment. Drop me a line if you have any ideas…

It hasn't been half a year since I updated. Course not. Absoloutly ludicrous suggestion…Life's been difficult. And hectic. With a lot less me time. But hey, I've been a reject and skipped school today, so you get a chapter, even if it is quite short and boring. I'm trying to do things as they would be, without rushing. And thanks everyone foe the brilliant feedback over the last few months. It really does keep in my mind that I need to update! x

**Ministry of Magic, London, England, June 15****th**** 7:30am**

Harry yawns. The Ministry of magic is filled with witches and wizards pretending that they are going about their daily business. As they pass, they sneak what they believe are inconspicuous glances at the face of their 'saviour', and in return Harry looks straight through them. But as nonchalant as Harry looks, the noise is hurting his ears, too used to the silence of the Chamber of Secrets where he often spent his days, and the light hurts his eyes. And as he watches these ordinary people chatter away about mundane things, he can't help but scan their bodies for a weapon, read their faces for any suspicious emotion. For everyone is an enemy, and no one can be trusted. That's what they told him. That's what they made him believe.

He's bored, but doesn't particularly mind the waiting, for he's not looking forward to being dumped on the doorstep of some random person. Though of course, that doesn't mean he'll act any less annoyed when the Minister finally invites them into his office, tone patronising and sickeningly sweet, eyes shifty and hands red and sweaty. He'll glare and sneer and tap his fingers irritably on he table whilst scanning the room and pointedly ignoring everything the Minister says. And when the man invites them in, five minutes later, that is exactly what he does. Needless to say, the man only grows more red as the seconds tick by torturously slow, and Harry can almost hear the mans heartbeat in his head, pumping furiously with fear, blood so easily spilled keeping alive a decrepit body so easily felled. 

Harry doesn't notice when his eyes begin to glow and his mouth twists and he begins to fall into the mindset where in the sum of Minister Killing curse, morals don't even begin to enter the equation. It's only when he feels a sharp kick in the shin by McGonagall's boot that he realises, and he calms himself, turning his eyes to the view of London outside the window. But the multitude of sky scrapers and screeching cars are nothing near therapeutic, and the chaos only agitates him more. The Ministry building makes him feel caged, and his fists flex and unflex, legs almost twitching from restlessness. He's used to a massive castle with wide, open grounds, gigantic manor houses with acres of land, battle fields that seem to stretch for miles…Not cramped, box like offices filled with a desk, chairs, filling cabinets. 

But all the forms had been filled in advance, all the arrangements made, so the Minister could find no excuse to keep them any longer. Both Moody and McGonagall shook his hand, but Harry only looked at the red, sweaty limb with disgust marring his face, and the man hesitatingly withdrew it, casting nervous glances to the other two. They both looked amused. Finally, they made their way to the fireplace, and Moody called out the name of their first destination: "Waldhaus!"

**Hokage's Office, Hokage Tower, Konoha, June 15th, Morning**

Okay, so maybe Naruto needed to learn to sit still, but come on, he's excited. It's not everyday he gets to meet someone new, someone his age, someone who doesn't a) hate him or b) know about the kyubbi. Sasuke has no right to be glaring like that. The stupid teme needs to lighten up a bit. It wouldn't kill him to smile once in while! And really, the Uchiha isn't actually that great, contrary to what Sakura used to think (though lately she's as annoyed with the boy's attitude as everyone else, and anyway, she's grown up). It's not like he has a patent on angst or anything. And could Kakashi stop reading that damned orange book for five minutes! Seriously, Tsunade needs to have a word with Jiraiya about making use of his spare time. Spying on women's bathhouses and writing seedy novels are not appropriate pastimes for old men!

Sometimes, Naruto wonders if he's the only sane person in Konoha. His weekly sparring sessions with Rock Lee do nothing to convince him differently.

He doesn't really know why he's so excited. This is just some random boy, who he's never met before. But Naruto is still rather lacking in friends, (family, acquaintances, unhateful looks,) so he supposes it's not strange that he feels hopeful. But really, he should know better. The boy, Harry, will find out the truth in the end, everyone will, and it'll be just like old times. Alone and lonely. With a demon in his head. At least these days, he knows he's not hearing voices. He used to think he was insane. Sometimes, he's still not sure which he'd prefer.

Sakura, too, seems to be looking forward to the new arrival, Naruto observes as the seconds tick by torturously slow. New arrivals are rare in Konaha, what with all the arduous paperwork required to be filled to accept a new citizen. And Tsunades inefficiency with paperwork is already legendary. As expected, his pink haired friend had chosen the path of a medic-nin, and with the mentorship of the Hokage she's exceeded all expectations. Yet the healing of the mind has always intrigued her, and she senses something deeper that what the Hokage is telling them. She won't mention it though. Tsunade always knows what she's doing.

Sasuke, in contrast to the others, does not look at all like he is intrigued with the thought of a visitor to Konoha. Indeed, there is not an iota of interest on his face, mouth set in a stoic line and his eyes familiarly blank. Yet of course, one should never judge a book by its cover, and inside that pretty little head, Sasuke is curious, and sick of (im)patiently waiting. 

There's a knock on the door.

Tsunade looks up, and shouts "Come in" as Team 7 shift on their feet, Kakashi's book mysteriously disappearing. A black clad ANBU enters, the door creaking closed, and bows to the Hokage. "The civilian has arrived hokage-sama."

"Bring him in."

The Shinobi turns and walks out the door. They hear heated words, frantic hurrying, and the ANBU re-enters. Alone. "Our sincerest apologies hokage-sama, it seems he has… momentarily disappeared. My men are searching for him now."

"You lost him!" Naruto exclaimed, with a laugh. "You lost a civilian, and you're meant to be the best shinobi we have!"

"NARUTO!" He flinches and turns to Sakura. "Watch your manners."

"There is more to this than meets the eye, is there not hokage-sama?" Sasuke. Suspicious as usual.

She sighs, but doesn't answer the question. "Kakashi, Team 7, I want you to help with the search. Report back here when he's found." 

And so they are gone.

**The Forest of Death, Konoha, June 15th, Morning**

Harry stares at the metallic fence surrounding a forest. A fence implies people are either not allowed in, or not allowed out. Harry doesn't really care which it is. Whatever is in there, it won't hurt him. Even if it did, he isn't too fussed really. This is all just a test.

He concentrates on the forest behind the fence, and with a large crack he apparates inside. He doesn't silence the noise, it's only fair to give them some kind of lead. 

It's a pretty place, this Konohagakure. The sun is searingly bright, with grass of the deepest green and happy smiling people. He had slipped invisible through the bustling streets until he found this place, and now he walks sedately through the poisonous forest, waiting for them to find him. He's even counting.

He touches a plant, and pulls his hand back quickly, holding it in front of his eyes with fascination. Little red spots emerge on the scarred skin, itchy and hot. Harry ignores it and carries on. 

An hour passes.

Two.

Three.

Then there's a tower in front of him, large and imposing, so he changes course to walk towards it, legs weary and mind sedated in boredom. But he still hears a slight rustling, barely there, that only ears trained by war would hear. He makes no noticeable change in his demeanour, yet he widens his awareness of surroundings, taking comfort in the wand in its holster.

He draws closer to the tower. And sat on a boulder, with a look of utter boredom, is a boy. He's…almost pretty, yet with an indomitable air of masculinity. On his forehead is a band bearing the sign that's scattered around the village of Konoha. The boy catches his eyes, and they both freeze.

The Shinobi speaks first.

"You've done well to get here. For a civilian at least. You're lucky. The Forest of Death takes many victims."

Harry shrugs nonchalantly, leaning against a tree, a hand resting next to his holster. 

"You seem perfectly unscathed," Harry comments, looking him up and down.

The other boy smirks minutely. "I'm not a civilian. The perils of this Forest are far beneath me."

Harry is reminded of an older, more controlled Draco Malfoy, and he finds it vaguely amusing that even in this quite basic, immaterial land, there are still people consumed by their own arrogance.

"Yet it still took you three hours to find me?"

The dark haired stranger frowns, and there is the smallest hint of unease in his eyes.

"That's irrelevant. You've kept the hokage waiting, a great slight."

"Then why are we wasting more time?"

**Hokage's Office, Hokage Tower, Konoha, June 15th, 13:12pm**

Tsunade and Team 7, minus Sasuke, are back in the Hokage's office. Naruto looks a little petulant, annoyed that the first person the new kid met was moany old Sasuke. Sakura is almost bouncing with excitement, yet Tsunade is subdued, forehead creased. It is not often a supposedly untrained boy can escape the ANBU and lose them in their own village. There is more to this than Alastor has told her, though she'd always known that. It will be…interesting to finally meet him.

A knock at the door, than Sasuke is walking in, scowling heavily. Behind him walks Harry, deathly pale skin tinted with dirt, obsidian hair messy. His emerald eyes flick around the room, a move the Shinobi recognise as that of a trained warrior. They are suddenly on edge. 

He makes the smallest of bows in Tsunades direction, then looks her straight in the eyes. "Konnichiwa hokage-sama." His voice is soft and silky, yet there is no emotion in his voice, and his eyes are blank. It finally sinks in that Alastor had not once exaggerated. This boy was completely apathetic. This is going to be harder than she'd thought.

"Potter-san, welcome to Konohagakure. May I introduce Kakashi-san, Uchiha Sasuke-who you've obviously already met, Haruno Sakura and Uzumaki Naruto." 

Sakura smiles, and Naruto waves with a small grin. Sasuke makes no move, and Kakashi merely nods. Harry repeats the gesture. 

"Now, I've arranged for you to stay with Uchiha-san until you feel comfortable with daily life here."

"Meaning you're having me watched into you're sure I'm not going to go psycho and destroy your village?" Harry asks rhetorically. Tsunade glares, as the others shift, unsure of where this will lead.

"I do not want a repeat of this morning Potter-san. We have neither the time nor the man power to chase you around the village whenever you feel like playing games. If we have any reason to believe you a threat or nuisance to Konoha there will be consequences. Do you understand?"

"Perfectly." Harry sneers, mentally cursing Mad Eye. 

"Good. Then we should have no problems."

"Quite." He agrees.

"I shall leave you to settle in. Team 7, you are all dismissed."

As soon as the door closes behind them, Tsunade brings out the sake.

It's going to be a long day. 


End file.
